


can't stop my heart when you're shining in my eyes

by memorysdaughter



Series: The Amazing Zoltar [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Blindness, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Kidnapping, Medical Experimentation, not Grant Ward friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorysdaughter/pseuds/memorysdaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set eight and a half months after "i'm stuck in the dark but you're my flashlight."</p><p>Daisy is kidnapped by Gideon Malick's HYDRA.  Coulson comes to find her.  What does the Amazing Zoltar have to say about all of this?</p><p> </p><p>Written for Skoulson Romfest 2k16, day six (previous prompts: trapped).</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't stop my heart when you're shining in my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Flashlight" by Jessie J.

She gets kidnapped on a Saturday.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wonders if she’s technically too old to be _kid_ napped, if this is truly an _abduction_ instead.  (It’s weird what she chooses to think about when she should really be thinking about far more important things.)

Daisy’s been blind for eight and a half months and she’s spent the majority of it in Coulson’s office.  For those two-hundred-and-twenty-three days (God, that seems like forever) he’s been her constant.  He rarely leaves her side.  In fact, if she’s being technical about it, this is her first journey out of the Playground since she went blind (minus that plane ride she took to the new Avengers’ facility to be seen by Dr. Helen Cho, which she doesn’t count because she was fully sedated the entire time to avoid being violently ill due to the vibrations of everyone around her).

In another brain state she’d be excited.  ( _Field trip!!)_

As it is she’s nearly instantly put into a shut-down, her body leaving only its essential functions and capabilities online.  She passes out shortly after they get her out of the Playground, and when she does came back to herself, Daisy’s on a cement floor, her left arm throbbing from shoulder to wrist, several other spots feeling distinctly scraped and bloody, overwhelmed by the vibrations of her kidnappers (abductors?) and their voices, which are turning into slow strings of warped pulses against her ears.  She can pick out a few words here and there, and every now and then one of those words makes its way through the barrage of vibrations battering against her fragile system.

 _Malick,_ she hears.

 _Inhuman bitch_ comes through loud and clear.

Laughter that sounds more like popping bubbles (but sharp and wrong, like bubbles of acid) accompanies two more words: _Coulson’s pet._

Daisy likes to think she’s nobody’s pet.  Is pretty opposed to pets, as a whole.  Has decided she doesn’t want a guide dog for multiple reasons (though it’d be a damn good reason to visit Dr. Winslow).  Still _likes_ dogs, but…

Person-shaped vibrations come closer to her and her nausea gets worse.  She props herself up on her right arm and tries to crawl away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hands reach down and grab her.

Pain shoots through her left arm and a new series of vibrations jolt into her body.  Daisy gags.  These vibrations feel different than anything else – than any _one_ else – she’s encountered since she lost her sight.  They’re dark and painful, spiked as though studded with broken glass, twisting deep into her psyche.

(She knows that voice, that touch.)

She’s half-lifted from the floor and dragged across the concrete floor.  Daisy curls in on herself, her esophagus burning with acid.  Tears stream from her sightless eyes and all she wants is for this to be a terrible nightmare, to wake up in Coulson’s office with his arms around her, telling her it was only just a dream.

(It’s not just a dream, though, and that makes it even worse.)

She’s dropped to the floor and a sharp kick is delivered to her stomach.  Daisy chokes and tries to crawl again.  She makes it a few feet before her stomach rebels in earnest and she vomits, her body heaving and retching as it expels its contents, until she’s coughing up strings of bile and mucus.

Something thwacks against her head and drops to the floor beside her.  Numbly, Daisy reaches for it, picks it up to discover a bottle of water.  Her kidnappers (abductors?) have strange ways of showing their affection, but Daisy doesn’t care.  She twists off the top and rinses her mouth.

The person-shaped (but-definitely-not-a-person) vibrations stand in the doorway, and after a beat they’re joined by another (this one an actual person).

“What did I tell you?  She’s brilliant.”

“So far she’s vomited all over the floor.  I’d hardly call that brilliant.”

Daisy twists the cap back onto the water bottle.

“But you haven’t seen what she can _do_.” The voice is so goddamn familiar, a voice Daisy was fairly certain she’d give any sum of money to never hear again.  It’s even worse now that she fully appreciates the empty pauses behind it, the spaces where there was once a man and where now there’s only malevolent evil, the kind that inhabits a corpse like some sort of meat puppet.

“If it’s anything other than vomiting, I’m sure I’ll be impressed.”

Daisy feels the actual person get closer.  When he speaks again he’s directly in front of her. “I’m Gideon Malick, Skye.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Daisy.”

“I’m sorry?” He sounds amused.

“My name is Daisy.”

“Ah.  I see.  I was misinformed.”

“If you’re taking your cues from the asshole formerly known as Grant Ward, I can see how.” Daisy clenches her hands into fists.  She can feel her powers roiling just under her skin, but for eight and a half months she hasn’t used them.  Doesn’t even know if she can anymore.  Doesn’t know what they’ll do to her body.

(Doesn’t know if she has a choice.)

Malick laughs. “Feisty one.  You were right, Mr. Ward.”

Daisy pushes herself off the floor and into a sitting position. “What do you want with me?” she asks tiredly.  Her body aches, and her ever-present headache is spreading from its usual spot behind her eyes to her temples and her neck.

“Why do you assume…”

She cuts him off. “Ward doesn’t ever work with anyone unless he can get something from them.  As it turns out, the people he tends to work with have the same kinds of motives.  And he might be nothing more than a rotting corpse now, but I’m pretty sure he hooked up with you for exactly those reasons.  He wasn’t really creative… tended to dwell a lot on the killing and power and greed.  Also, you went to a lot of trouble to get me out of the Playground, and when people want to take me out to lunch, they generally just ask.”

Malick laughs again. “God, you’re just a trip and a half.”

Daisy reaches up for the thin chain around her neck, twining her fingers around it.  It’s long enough to keep the pendant hidden under her shirt; she’s oddly possessive of the block of acrylic with the two Amazing Zoltar cards sealed inside.  As bizarre as it sounds, they’re her good luck charm, the way Coulson claims she’s his.  She’s never even seen one of the cards, the one Coulson got from the fortune-telling machine shortly after she went blind.  He won’t tell her what’s on it ( _I’m waiting for you to get your sight back so you can see it yourself)_.  Maybe that’s what makes them lucky – if she doesn’t know what the future’s supposed to hold, then she can’t be disappointed when it arrives.

 “Well, I’m glad to know you’re awake,” Malick says when she doesn’t respond. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with someone who’s going to help me assess your capabilities.  Welcome to HYDRA.”

He moves away from her, and DeadWard goes with him.

Daisy breathes a sigh of relief before curling into a ball, fingers securely locked around her necklace.

_He’s coming.  He’ll come.  He’ll find me._

 

* * *

 

Coulson throws a flash drive at Mack. “Pull this up,” he says tersely.

Mack nods and slips the drive into the closest monitor. “What is this, sir?”

“We’re going to find Daisy.”

“The analysts are working on it downstairs,” Mack says. “I think it’s best if we…”

“There’s no time to waste,” Coulson barks. “I want her back _now_.”

The flash drive’s contents load.  Mack immediately recognizes the program – one of SHIELD’s best tracing exploits. “How did you manage to track our HYDRA visitors?”

“I didn’t,” Coulson says. “I’m tracking Daisy.”

He slumps down on the couch, putting his head in his hands. “God, Mack, how did they get in here?”

“A combination of small, localized explosives, flash grenades and advanced stun weaponry,” Mack answers, his voice steady. “And, if we’re being totally honest, the attackers seemed to know things they shouldn’t – a basic layout of the base, for example, and our timetable for switching surveillance and guard positions.”

Coulson’s heart pounds and his mouth is dry. “We need her back.”

The tracing program beeps.  _Target found._

“And we’re going to get her,” Mack says. “I’ll get the team together.”

He moves towards the door and then stops. “Sir… why does Tremors have a tracker on her?”

Coulson brings his head up. “Our most priceless gifts deserve to be found.  After she went blind, I knew that if anything happened to her, it would most likely bring me to my knees.”

“You’re still upright.”

Coulson nods. “Because I decided to do something about it.  Her necklace… with the cards in it?  The tracker’s in there.”

“I’m assuming she doesn’t know.”

“No.  But she knows there’s nowhere they could take her that I wouldn’t follow, so I think that’s just about the same thing.”

 

* * *

 

Daisy forgets the concept of time when two of Malick’s goons take her from the small room and into a much larger room full of pulsing machines and people-vibrations.  She tries to fight, tries to use her powers, but it’s impossible.  She can’t separate one set of vibrations from another; they crash against her like storm-tossed waves against vulnerable rocks.

She goes in and out of blurry consciousness, coming up briefly to realize she’s strapped to a table, restraints at her ankles and wrists.  She knows there’s voices, knows people are giving her instructions, but none of them register.  They come towards her, force her body through unnatural motions, and pirouette away.  A needle jabs into her neck.  Another, larger, punctures into her hip; at some point she starts screaming and simply cannot stop.

She isn’t sure how long she’s there, pinned down like a frog on a dissection tray.

She does know a few things, though.

Somewhere in the midst of the needles and the experiments, she feels bigger, stronger vibrations.  _An explosion._

And shortly thereafter she feels a scalpel slice through her belly.

Beyond that, she’s lost in the void.

 

* * *

 

When he finds her, he nearly goes to the floor.

She’s in the midst of the remains of the HYDRA lab, surrounded by scientists Mack and Bobbi have already snapped into handcuffs.  Daisy, _his_ Daisy, his gorgeous brilliant strong super woman, is restrained with thick leather straps, tied to a metal table.  Wires and tubes surround her like some sort of futuristic halo.

She looks dead.

_She can’t be dead._

Through numb lips Coulson barks something at Mack and Bobbi.  Bobbi grabs one of the scientists while Mack bellows down the hallway for the med team to _get their asses in here faster!_

“Daisy,” Coulson says, crouching down next to the table. “Daisy, open your eyes.”

He takes her hand in his.  At first there’s nothing.  Then her fingers twitch in his palm and he finds the courage to go on. “Daisy,” he repeats, a little louder. “Open your eyes, Daisy.”

The scientist is babbling things at Bobbi, who’s trying to do what she can. “She’s lost a lot of blood, Coulson.”

“Open your eyes, Daisy,” Coulson says, louder.

Her fingers twitch again.  Her mouth opens slightly.

“Open your eyes,” Coulson repeats. “Daisy?  You hear me?”

“Coulson…” Bobbi says hesitantly.

“… thirsty,” Daisy says faintly.

It knocks the breath out of Coulson’s lungs. “What?”

“Thirsty,” she repeats, her voice little more than a whisper. “I’m thirsty.”

Tears flood Coulson’s eyes.  He wants to scoop her up, hold her close, promise nothing like this is ever going to happen to her again. “Daisy, you can’t have anything to drink right now.  But I promise when this is over, you can have whatever you want.”

“Oh.  Good,” she says drowsily.  Her fingers twitch in his. “Hurts.”

“I know.  It’ll be over soon.”

 Her brow furrows and she blinks, then opens her eyes.

“Anything?” Coulson asks, half of him hoping that if anything comes out of this nightmare, it would be the return of her sight.

“Hurts,” she repeats, and she closes her eyes.

He lets her go (but doesn't let go, because the feeling of her hand in his is all that's keeping him alive).

 

* * *

 

She wakes on a Wednesday, after six blood transfusions, two surgeries, eighty-one stitches, and one far-too-long brush with death.

(She doesn’t know anything about this, though.)

She does know that Coulson’s hand is in hers when she returns to consciousness.  His vibrations are rhythmic, steady, _asleep_.

Daisy tentatively curls her fingers around his.  It hurts, but not as much as she was expecting.  She sighs contentedly.  For an hour or so she’s simply happy to hold his hand and to breathe _in out, in out_ while she tries to assess the damage.  Everything seems to throb and yell with pain, but as long as she doesn’t move (and as long as Coulson’s near her) she can manage to remain conscious.

(Although she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t really, _really_ looking forward to the amazing painkillers she’s sure are coming soon.)

At last she squeezes Coulson’s hand a bit more strongly. “Hey,” she says, trying her voice.  It’s gritty.

It takes him a few minutes but he drifts back to consciousness, slowly at first and then coming fully awake with a jerk. “Daisy.  How long have you been awake?”

“An hour, maybe?”

She’s prepared to say more but his lips meet hers, his arms wrap around her.  It hurts but it’s the very best kind of pain – it proves she’s alive.

It doesn’t stop her from saying the obvious when he lets her go, of course. “ _Ow_.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!  I didn’t think…” He slips something into her hand. “This is your pain control.  If you press it twice it’ll give you the next dose now.”

She does as he directs. “I’ve been thinking,” she says, while she waits for the meds to kick in, “and it’s time to learn Braille.  And get a white cane.”

Coulson doesn’t respond, but his vibrations wrench back to _heartbroken nervous_.

“It’s time,” Daisy repeats. “And I’ll get May to teach me how to fight with the cane, because I’m pretty sure that woman knows how to turn anything into a weapon.  I never want to feel that defenseless again, even if I’m going to be blind for the rest of my life.”

“Daisy.”

“I mean, if I was better at listening to my senses I think I would’ve known where I was, maybe could’ve gotten a message out to you somehow, but…”

Coulson interrupts her, a bit more firmly. “Daisy.”

“What?”

“Open your eyes.”

“They _are_ open,” she replies irritably. “Blind, remember?”

He brings one hand up to touch her face.  Her fingers brush against her eyelids and a frisson of ice water runs down her spine. “They’re…?”

Daisy can’t figure out how to end that sentence.

So she opens her eyes.

 

* * *

 

She gets her sight back (well, sort of) on a Wednesday, two hundred and twenty-seven days after she lost it.  It’s not like the movies, where a blinded character can see perfectly after their sight is restored.  In fact, as Simmons tells her, she’s still legally blind.

(Coulson says he’ll still let her drive Lola.  Slowly.  And in a wide open field somewhere.)

No one truly knows which of HYDRA’s experiments triggered the correct response in her, but it’s generally agreed that one of them did.  Daisy never thought she’d be grateful for HYDRA for anything, and she’s still not.  She would have been happy to remain blind if meant living without the other scars, both emotional and physical, from her time under HYDRA’s scalpels.

She sees the world around her as a series of colors and blurs.  Her distance vision is completely shot, but when she gets close enough to something she can pick out most of its details.  People announce themselves by their voices and their (much quieter, thank God) vibrations.  Daisy adapts her senses to figure out everything else.  It’s enough.

She still gets the white cane.  (Still gets May to teach her how to fight with it.)  With it she’s safer, more secure, more independent.

But she always feels that way, especially in Coulson’s arms, where she spends a good deal of time.  She loves being close enough to him to see all of the details of his face instead of just a blur of color and movement.  (Well, and for other reasons.)

Daisy navigates into his office on a Tuesday afternoon carrying a bag of cheeseburgers and fries and milkshakes. “I brought lunch,” she says.

“It’s two-thirty,” he replies.

“So I’m not punctual,” Daisy says with a laugh. “Do you know how hard it was to acquire these?”

“Did you…”

“Of _course_ I didn’t drive,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I just had to wait for Mack and Joey to finish training, and then _they_ drove me into town.”

She puts her cane on the floor and cautiously moves over to the couch. “I wanted to be with you when I did… what I’m about to do.”

“Eat a cheeseburger?” Coulson’s weight dips the couch next to her.  He puts a milkshake in her hand.

Daisy takes a drink of it, shaking her head. “No.  I’m going to find out what the Amazing Zoltar really told you about us.”

“Can you see the card?” he asks.

Daisy digs into her pocket and comes out with the high-powered magnifying loupe Fitz created for her. “With this I can.”

She hands him her milkshake and carefully brings her necklace out from under her shirt.  Bringing the loupe to her eye she studies each side of the acrylic block.  Both feature a cartoon with the head of the Amazing Zoltar (swarthy, bearded, clad in a turban, eyes slightly crazier than is probably polite for a fortune-teller) bobbing just behind a glowing crystal ball, and each has a legend next to the strange man’s face.

The first one she remembers, printed in a blocky font – _On a Tuesday, don’t be surprised if you lose your sight.  The Amazing Zoltar is always right_.

It’s the second one she’s been waiting, _waiting_ to see.  She holds it close to the loupe and the blurry black blob separates itself into readable text.

_He’s back from the dead.  Earthquake stuff was her birthright.  The Amazing Zoltar doesn’t have to be psychic to know that these two were always right._

Laughter tumbles out of Daisy’s mouth.  It feels like she’s been slapped across the back far too hard.  She can’t stop giggling.

“What is it?” Coulson asks mildly.

She drops the loupe and her necklace and practically jumps into his lap, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him _once twice oh she loses count_.

Several minutes later he repeats his question. “What is it?”

“The Amazing Zoltar,” Daisy says, shaking her head.  She’s still up next to him, staying close so she can watch his expressions.

“What about him?  If I recall correctly, you thought it was a bunch of hooey.”

“No, I think he’s completely legit.”

“And how do you know that?”

Daisy finds her necklace and holds it up. “Well, for one, he was right about fate being what we choose to make of it.”

Coulson kisses her.

“… and for another, he has your handwriting.”

Coulson goes red and Daisy loves that she can see it. “Um, well,” he says, “perhaps the Amazing Zoltar’s greatest gift to us is that he inspired me to take charge of my own destiny.”

“That sounded like a line from a Disney movie,” Daisy says, rolling her eyes.

“And you loved it.”

Daisy grins. “Yeah, I did.”

He nestles her close.  She stares up at his face. “It’s been six weeks since I got my sight back.”

“Yeah?  Have you learned anything?”

Daisy nods. “I’ve learned that wherever you are is the only place I want to be.”

She sighs in contentment. “We were in the dark together…”

She trails off and Coulson strokes her hair.

“… and now we’re in the light together,” Daisy finishes drowsily.

She closes her eyes and the rhythm of Coulson’s heartbeat becomes a lullaby.


End file.
